


give me another chance

by AnguishofMyLove



Series: Oh Brother, My Brother! [1]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (2010), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Age Difference, Incest, M/M, Step-Brothers, Stepbrothers, kid!Hiccup, stepbrothers au, well allusions to it, young!Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 19:58:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnguishofMyLove/pseuds/AnguishofMyLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack hated foster care but that was ok. He just had to wait until he was 18 and he could leave the group home. That changed though, when he met the woman with laugh lines in her eyes, curly thick brown hair, freckles of every size everywhere, and strong green eyes at the age of fourteen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	give me another chance

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [the Stepbrothers AU](http://goddessoftheworld.tumblr.com/tagged/stepbrothers-au). I tried to input as much of goddessoftheworld's [little ficlet](http://goddessoftheworld.tumblr.com/post/66492707043/if-i-may-ask-can-you-explain-the-shota-hijack-au) while writing it.

Jack was eleven when he went into foster care. He was put into a group home, around ten or so other children already living there when he arrived and the caretakers (parents is what they tried to get the children to call them, foster parents at the least, but this was not something Jack was comfortable with, may possibly never be something he would ever be comfortable with) living in the establishment. All these children were those without families, a mix of orphans, runaways, and castaways (but mostly orphans with Zsasha, Elliot, Gunner, Em, Mary Ann, Stephie, Cassy, Lou-lou, Jer, and then runaways Aaron and Carter, and little Benjamin who was left behind).

 ~~~~When Jack was decided to be put into foster care (his mother being the only one left able to care for a child in her side of the family (elders too old to be with the little Overland), and his father losing contact and cutting off from his family, and it was a classic really, a family left to fend for themselves), he was caught between withdrawing from society and lashing out and it would have been the perfect mix for a disobedient child and call for catering, but it wasn't been in his group home. There was a variety of ages, of personalities, and young Jackson Overland was mostly left invisible. He was neither the wildest nor the tamest child, nor was he the most attention-grabbing or the quietest. Jack became a little ghost, as much as he can be in foster care, and he loved it.

This,  _this_  wasn’t his family, and he detested that they were all trying to make the group home one. He had one family, only one, one mother, one father, and one sister (his darling, beautiful, little Mary), and no one could change that, no one could take their place. They didn’t deserve to be replaced and, what’s more, Jack didn’t deserve a second chance at family. He, after all, was the reason his parents died.

No one knew of his blaming, he didn’t think anyone deserved to have him to talk about it. He’d talked once, twice, all methodolical and emotionless, and that was enough, more than enough. He needn’t tell anyone about how he’d noticed his little Mary shivering in the cold and, unwilling to give up his one jacket, asked his father for his sweater. Needn’t tell anyone that his father had turned to him when Jack tugged on his sleeve and failed to see the unfortunate sheen of ice on the road. Needn’t tell anyone that it was because of that one little slip that the car careened across the street and down a slope, for they were heading uphill and Jack had to wonder why then, why when stakes were higher. Needn’t tell anyone that that was why Jack forewent jackets, sweaters, thick clothes, feeling and feeling like he’d been too selfish then, unwanting to be uncomfortable in the cold air, and it had only seemed right that he stopped being selfish, right?

No one knew and no one would know. Especially anyone from  _St. Thaddeus' Home for the Young_.

This was Jack for years eleven, twelve, and most of thirteen of his life. He was quiet anger and isolation and blame. He acted out, sometimes, but not enough that he called for attention long, at least not with ‘special cases’ like Zsasha and Carter and Jer. He kept to his little space (a bed he successfully hogged that was wedged in a corner, with ten other minors, it was impossible for anyone to have their own room) when he was not, and it was like he wasn’t seen.

That was not to say he changed all that much in the latter parts of year thirteen, even if he did. The only real change that occurred was that he'd realized as soon as he became legal, there would be nothing binding him to the foster home. To the young teenager, it was salvation. He would not be forced to interact with his ‘siblings and parents’, to be kept in a house always far too loud (where he was still far too alone), to have to be forced into a  _family_.

Jack didn’t really become any less of quiet anger, isolation, and blame. He lashed out less and less, and anger did tone down, but his emotions and thoughts were ingrained into his soul. The only thing this revelation did was bring him hope. He could someday be rid of all of this nonsense. And hoped he did, with everything in him.

That is, until he met the woman with laugh lines in her eyes, curly thick brown hair, freckles of every size everywhere, and strong green eyes when he was at the age of fourteen.

Valida Haddock was strong-willed, sharp, but compassionate. Or at least, that’s what Jack could tell when he saw her with the guardians. There was a fire in her, triumph maybe (and triumph it was), and her grin was hard and wide. Jack was intrigued by her, but not enough to pay her too much mind. He went back to his book, stolen from Elliot, and sooner forgot about the woman in red. He’d barely gotten ten pages in when he was called, the voice overly sweet but serious.

It hadn’t been ten steps away from the woman when she suddenly latched onto him and cried about,  _finally_ , and, well, she was definitely worth a good deal of mind then.

She was just as sharp and compassionate as he first thought she would be. She had the kindest eyes but the roughest tongue, and when he learned that his mother was dear to her, his heart nearly shattered and for some reason, his fingers twitched, as if he wanted to hold on to the woman much like she did to him. When they were holding onto each other, she’d promised him to wrap him up and give him all the sweaters and jackets he needed, give him all the warmth he needed, and he didn’t know what to do with himself. She told him it wasn’t his fault and all he could think about was,  _how did she know_? She was so much like his mother that he wanted to run away, but she looked at him and asked him if it was alright to become a part of her family and his mind drew to a stop.

It was when they’d both calmed down that Valida’s quick tongue came out and something in him settled. She was sweet and hard, perfect in the way no one in the group home was, in the way no one  _after_  was. She was like his mother, and his Mary, and none of the two that Jack couldn’t understand why he shouldn’t say no (no, he did, but he was tired, and this woman was good to him in a way his foster parents were not and she was the one link to his mother and he should maybe try, right? Just maybe) and so he didn’t. He said yes.

(And for the first time, it felt  _right_. And he’d told himself that he would be the boy this woman wanted him to be.)

* * *

The Haddock home was a bungalow, nothing to grand but nothing to be laughed at. Jack had first imagined flowers to be littered at the front of the house, but he found nothing wrong with the shrubs and plants, all mitch-match and crazy but maintained, that scattered instead. The house was cream and white and blue, with the odd yellow sticking out that made Jack want to laugh, and it was gorgeous. It was homey in a way that the foster home was not and Jack tugged on his hoodie, something Valida gave him as an early present.

He was meeting now his younger brother, a six year old, and all he could think about was Mary. He had loved Mary and surely he would bond with the Haddock child the same way (and Jack discarded the fact that he’d secluded himself for three years, near four) even if his to-be brother was two years younger than Mary. He’d already met Stoick (he couldn’t call them his parents yet, and even if he wanted to, he probably would not for a long time), an awkward, hulking man, clearly unused to affection, and all that was left was Valida’s only child.

He breathed in deep and knocked on the door. He head the steps coming to the door (except not really, and Jack didn’t have the heart to tell Valida, and he assumed it was the woman, that he could tell she was just behind the door and those steps weren’t as convincing as she might’ve thought they were) before the door swung open, and he was correct, it was the young mother greeting him and ushering him in.

“Sorry for the mess, Jack,” she waved to the house where pens and papers and all sorts of items were cluttered on surfaces, where cloths were straying on seats and knobs, and where a stray toy or two was on the ground. The house wasn’t a mess, per say, but it was as lived in as it could have been, and Jack’s mouth twitched into a smile.

He’d been about to reassure her when she added, “I figured there was no deluding you that this house was spotless if you’re gonna be living here everyday of your life here on out,” and he had to laugh.

She’d looked at him with a warm gaze, and Jack was well aware how little he laughed, how barely he laughed, since the accident. Jack tugged on his shirt again.

“Right! Well,” Valida grinned, “I should go get your younger brother.” She ushered him to the living room where he figured he should sit down, but even as warm as the home was or as much as he was willing to try for Valida and her family, he still felt awkward in this house and just the littlest bit doubtful. Sitting would hardly calm his nerves, he figured.

“He’s here?” “Mmyup!”

Jack turned and saw young Hamish Haddock with his mother, and there was no denying that the little boy in Valida’s grasp was her son. He was the spitting image of the woman, freckled with auburn hair, and those same strong, green eyes. Valida crouched down and leaned to her son, sending a quick smile to Jack. “That’s him.”

The boy alternated between looking at his mother and the fourteen year old. He pursed his lips and hummed, as if deep in thought.

Valida scrunched up her nose and looked at her son fondly. “Now, don’t think too much with your head or it’ll explode,” she said, and laughed when her son fumbled in reply. She nudged him closer to Jack. “Well, go on, dear. Say hi to your big brother.”

“Big brother,” he mirrored. “Uhm.”

Jack watched as Hiccup shuffled closer and he offered a small, unsure smile.

“Hello,” he greeted, if a little questioningly.

Jack’s lips quirked up to a wider grin. “Hi.”

“My name is Hamish.”

“Well, I’m Jack.”

Hamish looked at him in concentration, as if trying to discern something. Jack tugged on his shirt one more time. “Uhm,” Hamish articulated wisely and something in Jack loosened to a laugh. “err…how old are you?”

Jack shuffled closer and his smile this time was a lot more real than any he had given to Hamish so far. “…I’m fourteen.”

Suddenly, Hamish smiled bright, and he went even closer to Jack. “I’m six and half!” and his smile turned proud.

Something in Jack stopped and for that moment, it felt like his life flashed before his very eyes.

(He was sure he was going to hell. And he prayed an apology to Valida.)

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact! St. Jude Thaddeus (not to be confused with Judas Iscariot of course) is the saint of the lost causes/desperate times. Very fitting, I think.


End file.
